Our Boy Is Home
by liebedero
Summary: There was a feeling of dread bubbling in her stomach and she struggled to quash it with self-reassurances that Peter was the best there was and no one but Peter had ever been able to find him, and he would never let anything happen to Neal. Peter would bring him home safe. But what of the consequences? Spoilers for Wanted and Most Wanted
1. Our Boy Is Home

She wanted them back home. It was a strange feeling, and in a way, it wasn't. Elizabeth always felt that way regarding Peter, but Neal had wormed hi way into their hearts. She had seen the look on Peter's face as he packed.

"_He'll be alright hunny. You know Neal, he's always just a step ahead. I'm sure that he'll be safe, especially with you there to help out," she laid a hand on his shoulder consolingly. _

"_I don't know El, I just….this guy looking for him, he won't stop. You saw him El. He violated our home. And I – I'm worried that I'll bring him back in a body bag, El, I just…I can't let anything happen to him, he's…"_

"_Precious. I know, Peter. He's so very precious. To you. To me, to Ellen. Now you bring him back to us, you hear me?" His arms encircled her and they rocked a little as he rubbed her back. "You bring our boy back,"_

"_I will El, I will,"_

That was two days ago, and she hadn't heard anything. There was a feeling of dread bubbling in her stomach and she struggled to quash it with self-reassurances that Peter was the best there was and no one but Peter had ever been able to find him, and he would never let anything happen to Neal.

Peter would bring him home safe.

She hugged her arms around herself, and worried her lip between her teeth as she stared at the empty picture frame on the mantle. Peter had taken the picture of them together, with the promise that Neal would be returned to them along with it.

El had never felt more like a mother than she did now. Neal was so close to them. Family in every way. He ate dinner with them often, and occasionally he did breakfast too. He slept over sometimes, and they joked with one another genially and with heartfelt abandon, just like families did.

And he trusted them, when he trusted no one else, just like family trusted one another.

The truth was that she loved him like a son, despite his age. She worried over him like a mother worried over a child, and she was in knots over him and Peter, with no one to turn to. Not even Mozzie, who had become a faithful friend and somewhat of a strange cousin sort of figure in their motley family.

Setting her lips in a tight line El pulled on her coat and grabbed her car keys, and rushed out of the door to her waiting car.

When she pulled up in front of Ellen house, she fairly flew up the steps to the door, knocking on it furiously. The woman opened the door cautiously, and upon seeing El opened the door. The brunette looked distraught, and Ellen watched her expectantly.

"How do can you go on living worrying over that boy?" she exclaimed suddenly, and Ellen motioned for her to come in, suddenly worried herself.

"What's happened?"

"Peter's gone after him. That agent found him in Cape Verde. Peter has to go warn him, because, oh God, I just…if anything happens to him, I don't know what I'll do, I don't know how Peter will, oh God, oh God. He's…I…Neal's like a son to Peter and I, Ellen. He's like my son, and I love him with all my heart and as much as I worry about Peter all the time, I have never worried about anyone more than I am worrying about Neal right now, please, please, please tell me that he's going to be alright, I just, I didn't know who else to talk to, and I thought that you would understand," she trailed off feeling silly. "You must think I'm ridiculous. I mean, I know Neal is a grown man but he still seems so young and helpless sometimes, and –"  
"Calm down Elizabeth!" Ellen cut her off, and took own of El's hands in her own. "I share your concern for him, you know I do. I understand how you feel, and I've seen how Peter feels about him too. Otherwise I'd never had given him the pager number. I have faith in your husband. He loves Neal like a son too. We all do. Now, would you like some tea to calm your nerves? We can chat about anything you want,"

El nodded. "Neal. Tell me about Neal, when he was little. Whatever you can, I just…"

"I know," Ellen smiled understandingly.

With the tea on the table, and El sufficiently calmed, Ellen began to tell El what little she could about Neal. His childhood, and his school achievements, his birthdate. The little things that Ellen knew that the other woman would never tell, that she could keep in confidence, treasure in her heart as memories of a child that was never hers, but that she loved unconditionally as her own.

El was sipping on some coffee and petting Satchmo, the T.V. on at a low volume, the news flashing past her, and her cell lying on the side table, just in case Peter called. Just in case there was any news.

It had been a week now since he had gone after Neal, and three days since her visit with Ellen. A picture of a young Neal now sat in the temporarily empty frame, with the promise that she would return it if Neal complained.

Satch sat up suddenly, ears prickling, and El was alerted to the squeak of the door knob and soft voices. The door opened and she looked at the two dark forms who entered. A switch was flipped and Peter was suddenly visible to her, and behind him…

"Neal!" she called out, and ruched over to them, throwing her arms around him and putting a hand at the back of his head, stroking his dark hair. "Oh thank God he brought you home, I was so worried about you baby, Peter said things and – " She broke off simply hugging him, and Peter watched as Neal blinked in utter surprise at the welcome he was receiving, and returned the hug, bending a little to accommodate for El's shorter frame.

Peter slipped the picture of himself and his partner from his jacket pocket and went to put it in the frame, but instead of being empty he discovered what appeared to be a young Neal Caffrey. He gawked at it.

Behind him, El and finally released Neal.

"You're alright? You aren't hurt or anything? Peter brought you home in one piece?" she was bombarding him with questions, and he smiled amiably at her.

"I'm fine Elizabeth, I promise, I'm alright," His eyes twinkled at her sincerely.

"Good. I'm going to make some coffee and then I'm calling Ellen. Is Mozzie with you? Should I call June up and tell her too? I can – "

"It's alright Elizabeth. All in good time. For now, I just want to sit down and feel relieved," She scurried from the room, and he sauntered up next to Peter, who held the frame in his hand. "That was quite the welcome if I do say so mys-" He spotted the picture. "Where did you get that?" he asked suddenly alarmed.

"Ellen gave it to me when I visited her a couple days ago and very nearly was losing my head with worry over you. Hi hun," She kissed Peter on the cheek and hugged him round the middle. "She told me to keep it, until you got home to us safe and sound. I hope you don't mind,"

"No, no," he replied distantly, holding the picture in his hands.

"I was wondering if we could keep it, but she said it was up to you,"

"I…El, this is…yeah," He said finally. "Yeah, you can keep it,"

"Isn't he adorable Peter?" She crooned jokingly.

"Yep, he's a real looker hun," Peter played along, chuckling. "Neal," He looked up suddenly serious. "If you want to stay the night here, you're more than welcome. You're our family, and we'll watch out for you, okay?" The corner of his mouth twitched a little.

"Thank you. Both of you," It was all he could think of to say.

"Well I'd better call Ellen and tell her our boy is home. She's been worried sick about you too,"

And that was that. Peter followed her into the kitchen to get his coffee and Neal was left standing at the mantle, photograph in hand, El's words ringing in his ears. _Our boy is home._


	2. Out of the Woods

**A/N:You all begged, and the response was really more than I had expected, so here it is, but that's it. No more. I have the last chapters of **_**Histories **_**to work on.**

Neal sat on the bed in the Burkes' spare room, still and unmoving. The table lamp let a soft glow into the room, and the window was open a little, enough for a breeze to waft its way in, bringing the sounds of the city with it. Dinner had been exemplary, considering that it was nearing midnight when El had been cooking for them, and he had told her as much.

Now he sat, the Burkes asleep in the room across the hall, thinking. So many thoughts. What would happen to him now? What about Kramer? What about the actual FBI? What would happen to Peter? He knew that more than once he had nearly pushed Peter into an early retirement with his less than legal antics, but every time Peter, Jones, Diana, they all had pretended like it wasn't as bad as it was.

Neal knew the truth.

If he slipped up one more time ( and this time might be that time) Peter would take the fall, and he would go back to prison. Somewhere along the line, Neal found, he had suddenly become more concerned with Peter's job security than his probable incarceration. What would happen to El if there was an investigation, if Peter was fired? What about Peter? He couldn't do that to him, after everything that Peter had done for him.

_Everything I touch dies._ He thought to himself, suddenly feeling very morbid and melancholic. _What a curse for an artist._ And that was the truth. Neal had always thought of himself as being an artist. He had never considered the cons to be his profession, but merely his way of getting the money to paint and sculpt and create his way through life.

For all his creations, and the life that he brought to art (whether legally his or not) somehow, everything that he touched was spoiled, and everyone he cared about got hurt. He couldn't deny it, and it came with the life that he led…chose to lead.

But it was addicting, the thrill, the rush, and he wanted so badly to help Peter, but…

He couldn't escape the choices that he had made.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before standing sharply, and with a grace that came so naturally to him, walked about the room, grabbing his few things and pulling on the clothes that Peter had given him to use.

He opened the window a little wider, and slipped out.

Peter awoke to the smell of bacon, wafting up to him from downstairs. He rolled over, and bumped into his wife with a surprise. He slowly rolled over again, and swung his legs over the edge, pulling on a t-shirt as he walked down the steps, El stirring behind him.

When he was in view of the kitchen, he saw Neal, in a t-shirt and jeans (his he noted, from the pile of things that didn't fit anymore which El had provided for their friend), cooking.

"What smells so good?" He asked groggily.

"Omelets, Peter, Omelets with everything in them. A hearty breakfast for the hard working FBI agent and his lovely wife," the younger man turned to Peter, a wide gleaming smile on his face.

"Sounds good, but I smelt bacon," he groused.

"You're going to have to wait. Go wake up Elizabeth while I finish up here,"

"Why are you doing this?" Peter asked, shaking his head, a small half smile forming. Neal turned and faced him, as if he was about to say something, but he stopped, and shooed Peter away.

When he and El came back down the stairs ten minutes later, the silverware was laid out, and the plates waiting, still steaming omelets resting on them, and Peter's place had its own side of bacon.

"Breakfast is served," the darkhaired man stated cheerily, then disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Something's up with him El," Peter squinted, thinking, as he sat, popping a strip of bacon into his mouth and crunching on it. "Something isn't right,"

"Well I'm going to go help him with the rest of the things in the kitchen, I'll be right out, you enjoy your bacon and coffee," and El slipped away through the door.

Neal was leaning against the counter, everything was already cleared away, and spotless.

"You're a fast worker!" she smiled at him, but he didn't respond. "Is everything alright, Neal?"He looked up at her, his eyes dark.

"I nearly ran last night. I was out the window and halfway down the block before I came back. I don't want Peter to feel the repercussions of my actions, El. I can't stand the thought of him being reprimanded by the bureau again because of me, and I know it's bad this time," He sighed, and hung his head. El came up alongside him, pulling him into a hug, stroking his hair, but he remained stock still, unmoving.

"Peter gave you the signal to run. You did as he asked. I'm glad you didn't run, because we just went through all that trouble to get you back. Think about how Peter would have felt. You didn't do anything wrong. Any repercussions are a result of his own actions. Kramer was either going to use you, or put you back in jail. We couldn't let that happen,"

"I'm never going to let Kramer get to you, Neal," the con looked up, still uncomfortable at the proximity, in surprise. Peter put a hand on his shoulder, trying to pour all the strength and understanding into the touch. He focused his gaze on Neal's. "This is your home. Here with us. New York is your home, and we are your family, and family looks out for one another,"

"Thank you Peter, Elizabeth, thank you, really. But what are we going to about it? Just because you got me out of there, doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet. The Bureau doesn't even know that I'm here,"

Peter smiled grimly. "We'll find a way, Neal, we'll find a way,"


	3. A Hollow Man

**A/N: I said that I wasn't going to write more for this one but all the oneshots I've thought up fit into it nicely. Next up, I'm planning something with Sara, whom I never was overly fond of, but I rewatched Season 3 and I've come to like her a lot more than I had. Still sort of in limbo on Histories, but I've got another story that I'm starting, but I won't post until I'm far enough ahead that I can post on a schedule without having to write to meet it. I'm two chapters in. **

**Enjoy the Angst**

* * *

The bomb that was Peter's 'news' hit hard and slow. It took Neal until he was back at his loft to realize the implications of his reassignment. No more Peter meant that he'd have a new handler, but that wasn't what bother him the most. Rather, what kind of trouble Peter would be in because of him. Everything he'd ever done had gotten Peter in deeper with the Bureau, and the guilt had started to set in, eating away at him. It wasn't only hurting Peter, but also El.

And Peter would be gone from his life.

Head in his hands, Neal swallowed back shuddering breaths, the memories flooding his brain, images plastered against his vision as he remembered the last time he'd had a father. His eighteenth birthday had been the worst in his life, and still was, regardless of Kate's death.

It was the day that his father had become dead to him, and the same day he'd been told that his father was alive.

And then came Peter. And now, too, was Peter to be taken from him. The father he'd always thought had been his, once upon a time ago, the father he'd wanted his whole life over.

Peter was the very man Neal had imagined his father to be.

It was time to tell Peter the truth, or at least as much of it as he could. The rest of it he'd have to hear from _Ellen_. The name was still very foreign on his tongue, much the way that Neal Caffrey had used to be. He'd told Sara that it was a long story, and that had been the truth. Witness Protection was a bitch, and a new name was simply part of the package deal.

But despite it all, it was still hard to say goodbye to him. Hard to say goodbye to the person that he'd been for so, so long. The person that he was, name or no name.

The person that he'd thought he'd been before he'd run on his eighteenth had become Neal Caffrey.

He wanted to cry. He hadn't cried since that day. Not even when the plane blew up. He had promised himself that he'd never cry again.

This wasn't his life. It couldn't be. He didn't have a life of his own. He never did. First the lies had ruled him, then truth, and then, once again, the lies.

He had promised himself not to let anyone in. It hadn't worked with Kate, or Mozzie, but Peter and El…he had never expected and it felt like everything was spiraling out of control. The lies had always given him the power to determine what happened in his life. He hated to be subjected to the rule of others, but in the process of eliminating all outside control of his life, he'd lost himself along the way.

It had been a long time since Neal had known who he truly was.

His self-confidence was the biggest lie of them all. There were so many people he could be, but he was none of them.

Maybe, even Caffrey wasn't him. But he'd certainly bled through, and for a while, he had conned himself into believing that he could hold out, that he could carry on despite it all. Mozzie had let him in, but he hadn't done so in return.

No one knew anything.

He thought about Ellen, and the truth.

The truth, he pondered, hurt far more than the lie. Lies were so cruel that they numbed the pain, and he was nothing more than a hollow shell of a person, all name and no personality.

Fake, fake, fake, a scarecrow in a Potter's field, he would blow away as if he had never even been born. His insecurities were flooding the dam, breaking the walls, and he crumbled with the thoughts, so rapidly flowing from Peter to his father and his past and his own person.

Whoever that was.

He didn't know anymore. He didn't know if he had ever known at all.

His childhood had been a lie, and the foundations of his adulthood had been built on them.

As he faced the truth, his careful façade, built of a house of cards, fell apart like the fragile construction that it was.

He punched a hole through the canvas before him, blank and a harsh cruel white, starting back at him. He'd once reveled in his ability to create his person from the ground up; Neal Caffrey had been his ultimate masterpiece, and now, he was burning like his art had in the fire.

Neal Caffrey was nothing more than ash in the wind, leaving behind a man, broken and empty, without a name.


End file.
